


Derek Hale doesn't speak

by Bashfyl



Category: Sterek - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Derek POV, Hurt!Stiles, M/M, MCD in each verse, Magic!Stiles, Multiverse, Selectively mute derek, Stiles POV, soul mates, switching POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8138957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bashfyl/pseuds/Bashfyl
Summary: What if after Paige died Talia believed Peters words over Derek's? What if sixteen year old Derek lost his mate the night he found him, the night of the Hale fire. What if the universe decided there shouldn't be a Derek Hale who didn't have his own Stiles Stilinski?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first multi-chapter story I've ever attempted. Please be kind. 
> 
> Special thanks to Eeyore9990 for being the best beta/teacher/cheerleader a girl could ask for.

Derek POV

When Derek walks into the baggage claim area, there is loud squealing and then running feet and bodies colliding with him. If he wasn't a wolf, he would have been knocked on his ass from how hard his sisters run into him. They both leap at him, arms and legs wrapping around him, leaving him a sister in each arm, both burrowing into his neck. After a few minutes of this and being stared at by what feels like half the airport, he manages to shake them off and get his bags so they can head home.

The car ride is long and they spend most of it telling him what he had missed recently, catching him up on all the happenings in his family and Beacon Hills. As they finally hit the turn off for the driveway he begins to tense up in anticipation of seeing the house again. Driving up, he is hit with both happy memories and horrible ones, and he can't help but hope that the happy ones will win this battle, because as much as they make him crazy, he really has missed his crazy family.

As he exits the car there is a rush of people from the house. They crowd around him, wanting to touch him. It's overwhelming and uncomfortable. He hasn't been around so many Hales in so long that he feels trapped; that, combined with the scent, sends him right into a flashback.

*****

Derek and Laura were late getting home from school that day. Basketball practice had run long, and Laura was meeting with some committee or another. As they approached the Preserve, they could see smoke from the direction of the house. Derek called 911 while Laura sped toward home. 

The house was engulfed in flames. His family was screaming from within. He and Laura tried to run up to the house to help, only to be blocked by a barrier of mountain ash. The sheriff arrived shortly after them; he didn't really understand why Derek and Laura couldn't get to the house or why their family couldn't get out, but he could see a very injured Peter Hale nearby and rushed to help him, shouting back at Stiles to stay in the car. 

Stiles, whose mother was magic, knew why the wolves couldn't get to the house. He also knew that breaking the line at the front of the house would only lead to Derek and Laura running into the fire, while their family seemed to be trapped in the basement. He quietly made his way out of the car and snuck around back to the cellar doors. He broke the ash barrier there and flung the doors open, it took just about everything he had in his small frame to do it, but he did. As the Hale family escaped, Stiles stood and held the cellar door open; Derek and Laura were alerted by the howls of their family to run around back. 

As the last member of the family fled the basement, Derek caught a brief scent of mate and home. He quickly looked for the scent; as he turned towards Stiles, he saw to his horror that the porch was collapsing toward the boy. In their haste to flee the burning building, none of the pack had noticed that the back porch had become engulfed. 

Derek tried. He tried so hard. He ran as fast as he could but he couldn't get there before the porch collapsed, burying Stiles in flaming rubble. He let out a mournful, pained howl and thrust his hands into the flaming debris, burning them as he dug to get down to the boy. When he found Stiles, he was still alive, barely. Stiles looked up at him, his whiskey eyes the only recognizable thing Derek can see, and asked if everyone was out. 

"Yes," Derek said, tears streaming down his face. "You got them all out."

Stiles smiled up at him, reaching to touch his face. He said, "I couldn't let you lose your mother too. Take care of my dad. I love you." Then his eyes drifted closed and Derek howled, and he cried, and he begged, as he listened to Stiles' heart stop beating. 

*****

Six Months Later

Derek is out running in the Preserve having been driven out of the house by his family who keep pressuring him to get it together, to move on and date. He doesn't see the point. Once you know who your mate is meant to be, even if you didn't bond, what's the point of trying to date? Dating someone who wasn't his mate hadn't worked out so well for him last time.

He is twenty-two years old and he should have his whole life to look forward to, but all he sees ahead of himself is an aching loneliness and the knowledge that he played a part in the death of his soul mate when he was only sixteen years old. 

Over the past six years, he made sure his family was taking good care of Stiles' dad. Seeing to his needs, making sure he didn't lose himself in the bottle, making sure he ate right, and sending various little cousins over to mow his lawn and help out with chores. It was the least he could do for getting Stiles killed that day. Because no matter what anyone says about it being Kate's fault, he knows Stiles would never have run into the building to get his family out if he hadn't seen Derek trying and failing to get past the barrier, begging for someone, anyone to help them.

He doesn't care that people say he shouldn't blame himself, that Kate was responsible for what happened. Realistically he knows if a teacher had done to Cora what Kate did to him, he wouldn't blame Cora, he would probably even try to kill the teacher. None of that matters though when he thinks of the hole in the center of his being, when he thinks of what this has done to Sheriff Stilinski. 

He is shocked from his broody thoughts when he smells it. Fresh blood, Stiles, and... _Derek's_ blood? He wolfs out and runs toward the scent. As he enters the clearing, scanning for threats, all he sees is a broken pile of bloody rags half buried in leaves and debris. He runs toward the pile, toward that scent. Brushing away the debris, he finds a familiar, mole-speckled face. It's older, pale, and blood splattered but it is Stiles. Derek quickly gathers the broken, damaged young man into his arms and begins to run for home. 

Derek moves as fast as he can, letting go of the tight control he keeps over himself. The trees blur as he rushes by, heading for the one person he knows can help them. His muscles are beginning to feel fatigued from the strain of his mad rush through the forest. As he nears home he begins yelling, "Mom! Mom! Mom!" 

His family all run out onto the porch, some have looks of shock on their face, mouths open in disbelief, his nana has tears in her eyes, others have dropped what they were doing and are standing there in complete disarray, waiting, because Derek Hale doesn't speak, hasn't spoken in six years, until he does.


	2. Chapter 2

Talia leads Derek into the dining room. She whips the tablecloth off, centerpiece, candlesticks and all, and tosses them into a corner of the room. Derek places Stiles on the table; it's really the best space for something like this. They make quick work of removing his clothes so they can look for injuries, the smell of Derek's blood on him so thick it's hard for Talia not to stop and look Derek over for wounds as well. Underneath the blood-stained clothes they find sluggishly bleeding claw marks along his ribs, as if clawed hands had him in their grasp and he managed to slip away. His left elbow and shoulder are dislocated, he has scars from past wounds littering his torso, a small triskele tattooed on his right hip and he appears to be underweight, but none of his injuries seem life threatening.

Talia sends someone to call for Deaton, to help put the arm back into place and stitch the claw marks on Stiles' ribs. While they wait for Deaton to arrive, they begin to clean Stiles' body of the blood, dirt, and debris. Talia has a lot of questions and it doesn't seem as if Derek is going to provide answers. He had stopped talking again, not having said another word once he got Stiles to his mom. 

"Derek," she says to him, "Could you explain what happened? Who this is?"

Derek wants to, he really does, but why would she believe him now? She hadn't believed him about Paige, preferring to take Peter's side of the story over his, so how can he trust her with something like _this_ He sighs, watching as she wrings out the blood-stained cloth she's using on Stiles, then he very deliberately takes out his phone and begins typing. Even if he'd been willing, it was frankly too much for him to say to her after so many years of not speaking.

"I was running and I smelt blood. My blood, his blood. The scent was so familiar to me. I hadn't smelled it in six years, but I knew as soon as I did that it was Stiles. Don't you smell it, Mom? Smell him? A little bit Claudia, a little Sheriff, and a whole lot of Stiles?" He hits send, tucks his phone in his pocket, and goes to fetch a blanket from his room so Stiles won't be cold.

When Derek returns with the blanket, he sees that Deaton has just arrived. Talia, having gotten Stiles as clean as he was going to get lying unconscious on the table, sets aside the basin and looks expectantly at Deaton. Stiles' lower half is covered as Deaton begins getting out the supplies to stitch him up and bandage his ribs; once that's done, he sees to the arm. As Deaton rolls Stiles onto his side to check his back for injuries and get his ribs in a better place to be worked on, they find another series of tattoos on the left side of Stiles' back. It's an odd collection and Derek is definitely going to ask him about them later.

Derek stays by Stiles, one hand touching him, siphoning off pain. Talia steps back to let Deaton work and fishes out her phone to read Derek's text. To say that she's surprised by what she reads is an understatement. She looks over at Derek and says, "You really believe this is him?" 

Derek nods at her, not taking his eyes off Stiles for even a second. Talia leans in close to the boy's throat and inhales deeply, trying to catch his core scent. It's buried beneath blood and death, but Derek sees the moment she recognizes it: the core scent is one she knew almost as well as her own children's scents once upon a time, and it is all Stiles.

Derek watched as his mother gave herself a few minutes to digest this new information. She looked as confused as he felt trying to figure out how this could be happening. They had all been there when Stiles died, when Derek and John lost it, and when John buried him. He wondered if she would be able to come up with a solution for why six years later Derek had found him older, battered, and near death in their woods. When Deaton finishes his ministrations and packs up his supplies, Derek wraps Stiles up even more in his blanket leaving a place for his hand to reach through and touch one of the uninjured places on Stiles' body.

As he listens to his mother and Deaton discuss aftercare, he realizes that none of their solutions are that Stiles will be staying with Derek, so he gathers Stiles in his arms and walks away. He carries him straight to his room, hip checking his door closed, and places him gently in his bed, where he belongs. Then he climbs in with him, arranging himself carefully around Stiles, holding him close, his face buried in Stiles' neck.

Straining his abilities, Derek listens to the conversation that's still taking place downstairs between his mom and Deaton."Did you get a sense of magic from the boy? Because I really need you to find out if there is a way for that boy to be Stiles Stilinski. Derek is sure it's him and he has his scent, but that shouldn't be possible. So I need you to find out how, Alan."

"I sensed magic around the boy, but I would need more time to figure out where it came from. I really don't think Derek is interested in giving me that time right now. Perhaps we will learn more from the boy himself once he awakens. I will research in the meantime to see if I can find any possibilities," Derek hears Deaton respond, some of the words almost too soft to pick up clearly. 

Derek listens to Talia walk Deaton out, then falls asleep to the sound of his mother's calm voice explaining to their excited pack what's going on. Surrounded by a scent that he has been missing for so long his sleep is more peaceful than it has been in six long years. 

******

Stiles POV

Some hours later, Stiles wakes up, the weight of Derek's body pressing him deep into the mattress. He feels a brief moment of panic until he realizes that the body on top of him is warm and breathing and that it's a mattress under him and not dirt and leaves. He's not really sure how he got here or where _here_ even is, but for this moment he's going to enjoy it. 

As Derek begins waking up and shifts against him, Stiles realizes that he is naked. Naked, naked, naked, and Derek Hale is laying on top of him. He has some pain in his ribs, shoulder, and elbow, but nothing that isn't manageable. Focusing on his injuries helps a lot with the problem he'd been developing against Derek's thigh. Derek comes to full wakefulness and looks up to find Stiles looking back at him. 

"Stiles?" 

Derek's all rumpled and sleepy with the worst case of bedhead Stiles has ever seen, and he can't help but beam at him. He knows deep inside that this isn't his Derek. His Derek had died protecting him, but there's no doubt that this is _a_ Derek and Stiles is okay with that.

"Yeah," he says, his scent running a gamut of happy and sad emotions, "I'm Stiles and you're Derek." 

He reaches up toward Derek's face, his hand pausing just before making contact with his cheek, unsure of his welcome. Derek leans his face into Stiles' hand, nuzzling into the contact, his eyes falling closed, a low rumble starting in his chest. He freezes rather suddenly, eyes popping back open, scanning Stiles' face.

"You died," Derek says. "How are you real? How are you here?"

Stiles heart clenches at the pain in Derek's voice. He knows that pain intimately and wouldn't wish it on anyone. 

"In my world, you died a few hours ago, protecting me. So I'm going to go ahead and guess that I'm here because of magic. It's a thing that happens sometimes.."

Derek lets free a small snort of laughter, his eyebrows seem to be trying to be serious, but Stiles can read the amusement there.

"When and how did I die?" Stiles asks him. 

Stiles can tell Derek really doesn't want to talk about this, both by the way his body tenses around him and by the heavy use of "constipated eyebrows no. 7". Derek buries his face in Stiles' neck for a moment, inhaling his scent deeply. Then he tells Stiles about his Stiles. How they met when he was born, how much he had loved his Aunt Dia. How Stiles had followed him around from the moment he could crawl and all about the night he died saving Derek's family and how he hadn't spoken a word until he found Stiles in the woods and knew he would need his mom's help to make sure he would be ok.

“My mom?!? Aunt Dia? Derek are my parents alive here?!” Stiles gasps as he holds onto Derek as tightly as he can, searching his face for answers. 

"It's okay, it's okay," he murmurs to the boy, pulling him into his chest, wrapping him tightly in his arms while being careful not to jostle his ribs or his arm. “Your mom passed away just after the fire. Your dad didn't handle it well, but we took care of him, just like I promised, He comes to Sunday dinner every week and spends holidays with us. He’s part of the family, but Stiles, his Stiles died six years ago. I think this is something we should let my mom handle, so he doesn't get overwhelmed.”

Stiles begins to calm knowing that he’ll get to see his dad again, hug him again soon, “Ok, all right, we’ll let your mom handle it, it's only a couple days, I can handle that,” he says as he rubs his damp face against Derek's chest, enjoying the comfort his wolf’s warmth gives him. They stay cuddled up like that until Stiles’ bladder demands attention.

"Urm. Do you think maybe I could have some pants? I could really use a bathroom break and maybe some food..." 

"Ooh, of course," Derek says.

He crawls off the bed and stalks over to one of the dressers in the room to begin rifling through drawers. He pulls out a pair of sweatpants, a soft, comfy-looking henley, and a pair of thick socks. After handing them to Stiles, he steps away from the bed, turning his back to him and telling him to let him know if he needed help. 

Stiles doesn't want to ask Derek for help, but there really is no way for him to dress himself, though he appreciates the consideration. 

"Derek, I'm gonna need you to dress me." 

Stiles doesn't know exactly what to expect when Derek turns around and he shifts nervously in place. He scans Derek's face and is shocked by the open want in the man's eyes. He is looking at Stiles like he wants nothing more than to spend days devouring him. Derek strides forward and takes the sweatpants from Stiles’ hands before dropping to his knees on the floor in front of him. 

"You can brace your good arm on my shoulder," Derek says, looking up at Stiles through his lashes.

"Jesus," Stiles mutters under his breath, not quite quietly enough to prevent Derek from hearing it. 

He rests his good hand on Derek's shoulder and steps into the pants, fingers digging into Derek's shoulder. Once he has both feet resting on the ground again, Derek starts to pull his pants up. The action forces his face closer to Stiles' groin, his thumbs dragging up the sides of Stiles' legs, an exhaled breath ghosting across his hip. It's the breath that's the final straw for Stiles; he was handling everything else, really he was, but that breath... He can't keep in the filthy moan that's been waiting for release.

Luckily for both of them, his pants are on now. Derek looks up at him and the heat in his gaze has Stiles blushing all the way down his chest. Derek gently helps Stiles sit back down on the bed so that he can put his socks on.

"Stiles," Derek says in a slightly rough voice. "How old are you?"

Stiles can't help the laugh that spills out of him. "Eighteen, I'm eighteen," he manages to get out, trying hard not to move too much.

"Oh thank God," Derek says as he slides the second sock on. He points to one of the doors in the room and says, "Bathroom first, then food."


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles POV

Once Derek has finished helping Stiles dress and gotten his arm immobilized again, the pair head downstairs to the kitchen. The house is fairly quiet and it's dark outside, so they assume that most everyone has gone to bed. Derek sits Stiles at the island and starts pulling out various leftovers, holding them up for inspection and a yay or nay. Shortly after he gets two plates filled and heated Talia slips into the kitchen, taking a seat across from Stiles.

Stiles is freaking out just a bit looking at her. Derek had always told him how beautiful his mother was, how powerful, and Stiles had seen pictures, but none of it did justice to the feeling you get when Talia Hale enters a room and focuses all of her attention on you.

He looks up at her, eyes alight with caution and curiosity. She is watching her son with what he likes to call eyebrows no. 23, which means "I can't believe you right now" in Derek eyebrow language, which appears to just be Hale eyebrow language. Stiles has to have a little chuckle when he realizes that she is looking at Derek like that because he's is cutting Stiles' meat very carefully into uniform, bite-sized pieces and his whole face is screwed up in concentration. It's pretty freaking adorable. 

Once the cutting is done, Stiles starts eating immediately. He figures it'll be the best way to keep Derek from trying to _feed_ him too. He moans loudly when the first bite hits his tongue. It's been so long since he's had a home cooked meal, so long since he's had _any_ sort of real meal. Derek quickly begins cutting up the food on his own plate; the moment that Stiles finishes with his meal, Derek switches their plates and then goes to get himself some more. When the second plate appears before Stiles, he begins to settle down, take a little more time with what he's doing. 

Looking up, Stiles notices Talia staring at him, so it comes as no surprise when she asks, "Who are you? How did you come to be here?"

Stiles looks around cautiously, then peers at Derek. "Is anyone else around, in hearing range?"

Derek and Talia both shake their heads and Talia says, "But if you're worried about it, we can go to my office?" 

Stiles and Derek quickly finish their plates, and Derek rinses them and puts them in the dishwasher before Talia leads them into her office. Stiles is a bit uncomfortable here, especially knowing that Peter could be lurking around, so he leans against Derek as they walk, his free hand grasping Derek's belt, tucked part way into the back of his pants. Upon entering the office, Derek steers them both over to the settee, where he settles them right against each other.  
Once Talia's seated across from Stiles and Derek, Stiles starts speaking.

"I _am_ Stiles Stilinski. I'm 18 years old and a senior in high school. My parents were John and Claudia Stilinski. My mom died when I was 8 and my dad died last year. As to how I came to be here, I have no idea beyond magic."

"In my world, your family died in a fire when I was ten. As near as I can figure from what Derek told me, the main difference between our worlds started because my mother hid her magic and Derek's Aunt Dia didn't." He picks at the seam of his pants, looking across at her. "What else do you want to know?" he asks.

"Everything," she replies.

So he tells her everything and in telling _her_ everything, he tells _Derek_ everything about his other self. About a Derek that never gave up, that suffered so much, and just kept trying. About Peter killing Laura and Derek having to put Peter down to end his rampage. He tells them about Scott being bitten against his will and turning into a True Alpha, even though all he wanted to be was a normal human boy living a normal human life. He tells them about the Argents, Gerard and Kate and Victoria, then Allison and her change to their code and Chris who died just before Derek, protecting them. 

He tells them about Derek's pack and asks her to check on them. He explains about Isaac's father and Erica's seizures and Boyd's sister. Lydia. Deucalion, Jennifer/Julia, the Alpha pack. The nogitsune buried in the roots of the nemeton, Kira and her mother. Deaton. He spends a lot of time on Deaton. The many chances he had to help but didn't, the promises he broke, the way he twisted Scott's mind to think that helping Gerard bite rape Derek was the moral choice, that not killing is the moral thing to do and how many lives not killing Deucalion cost them, including Deaton's. When the truth is, sometimes killing is the right thing to do and killing isn't murder. How Morell is Deucalion's emissary but also Deaton's sister. 

Finally, as exhaustion sets in, he tells them about the hours before he appeared in the woods. Being cornered near the nemeton, only himself and Derek left of all their pack and loved ones. Running on fumes, out of supplies, Beacon Hills a war zone.

"I don't know exactly how I got here, but I have a theory. The nemeton was powered up by Paige's death, her sacrifice, thanks to Peter and Ennis."

Derek's head snaps up at these words, meeting his mother's eyes as she inhales sharply, then Stiles'. Stiles reaches out and runs the back of his hand down Derek's jaw line to his chin, reversing his hand and palming his cheek. 

"Paige was never your fault, Derek. You and I both know whose idea it was, who tried to bully you into it, who went to Ennis, and who held you down and forced you to watch Ennis bite her. We also know who ran away and left you to deal with it when she rejected the bite. I don't know why your mom doesn't know, but you and I know."

Derek buried his face in Stiles' neck, apparently trying to calm himself by burrowing into Stiles' scent. Stiles meets Talia's eyes again to finish telling her his thoughts; when he does, he sees that she's looking at Derek with a mixture of regret and sorrow. He clears his throat and starts speaking again.

"Then Jennifer made more sacrifices to power up, but she was killed without all of that power being expended. There were other deaths, other sacrifices, and I think when Derek sacrificed himself for me, it closed the circle he had opened. It allowed my magic enough juice to send me to a world where there was no Stiles. A place where I could fit. That's how I think I got here." He rubs his hands across his face wearily, overwhelmed by all the emotion of the day and leans heavily against Derek, “You’ll talk to my dad and we can go back to bed?”

"Yeah, go on then," Talia said. "Stiles? Thank you for telling me and I will talk to your dad."

Derek picks Stiles up in his arms gently and carries him back upstairs to his room. He settles them both in bed and once again wrapped himself around Stiles. It's the first full night's sleep Stiles has had in years and he's pretty sure Derek's the reason for it. In the morning when he wakes up, snuggled together with Derek, he feels a sense of peace, a sense of rightness. 

***************

Derek POV

Derek pulls Stiles against him, wrapping his arms around him loosely and studies his sleepy face before asking him, "You and your Derek, were you... together?” As the words leave his mouth his mind races, wondering how he will feel if ‘other’ Derek had been with Stiles first, if Stiles could accept him, be with him.

Stiles shakes his head and says, "No, man, we never really had a chance. We were always too busy fighting a war. I think we could have; I mean, we loved each other, we trusted each other, would kill or die for each other, but we never even shared a kiss." 

Some of the tension bled out of Derek as he considers his next words and asks, "Do I remind you of him?"

Stiles snorts and says, "Yeah, there's the whole eyebrow language thing." And he waggles his eyebrows at Derek. "It's like if he were your twin brother. You look alike, you have a similar family experience and the same genetics, you may have some of the same likes and dislikes and personality traits, but you are not the same person, and I am not confusing you with him."

Stiles runs his nose up along Derek's neck to just under his ear and murmurs sleepily, "He and I weren't together, you and your Stiles never had a chance to be together, but I think, if you wanted to, that you and I could be that for each other. Being here, like this with you, sleeping in your bed, wrapped around each other, waking up together... It feels right."

The rest of the tension leaves Derek’s body upon hearing these words and he throws a leg over Stiles, snuggling closer together, "It does, It feels right to me too,” he mutters, dropping a kiss to Stiles’ temple.

"I also get that you need to know that I'm not confusing you, so I've decided I'm going to call you by a name I never called him. I called him Der or Derek, so I'm afraid from now on I'm going to have to call you Bear. Yep the other half of Der-Bear, that's your new name," he ends, giggling madly at the eyebrows of doom Derek is giving him.

Derek can't help but laugh too. It's been a long time since he has felt even the slightest desire to laugh, but here, in these arms, he's finding that he's feeling a lot of things he hasn't felt in a long time. He thinks that maybe this is how things were supposed to be. A Derek missing his Stiles, finding happiness with a Stiles missing his Derek. Almost as if the universes themselves couldn't be content when there were worlds where they weren't together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
